USA Survival Program 01 Codename: F1RST 3LO0D
by Princess Cuppycake of Tokyo
Summary: The first ever program is taking place on U.S. soil on an evacuated island in Lake Michigan, with 50 unassuming Ohio teenagers being forced to battle it out for survival. In a competition where your life is on the line, how deep does friendship truly go?
1. Prologue

_HI GUYS! 私の話にご挨拶! *^_^* This is not my first story ever, but it is the first one I'm writing on fanfiction! Desu. I really wanted to write a Japanese one, but I am not fluent enough to do this completely. Desu. Although I think that langauge is exotic and beautiful, I think it might be a little too different to put with the text inside the writing (:o) but that doesn't mean I'll stop talking like this! Desu. Nyaaaaa! Japan forever! 美しさの土地! I am setting this story in the USA :( and I really wanted to set it in Japan, but I wouldn't want to set a story there until I've visited - and I hope that's soon. NYAAAAAAAA! Please read and review! Desu. あなたが読んで、確認されない場合は私があなたに呪いをかけます。 (*￣m￣) I do not own battle royale, :( just like other things, but I am working on that and going through negotiations. Desu. 私は日本のメディアの女王です!_

* * *

_Thirteen Years Ago..._

It was a dark and stormy night, the clouds hung low creating a blanket of mist around the docks and warehouses, obscuring everything further than twenty-metres into the black waters of the sea. The pale, natural glow of the moon mixed with the artificical red and white lights of the shipping district made the fog light up in a silvery haze, swirling about in the steady midnight gusts of wind. In the distance, the tips and sails of boats dipped, peaking over the coastal miasma. There were lights here and there in the docks, however it was mostly shut off and vacated at night, almost completely seperated in ambience from the bright, bustling town less than a half-mile away. The whole area smelled of salt and fish, mixed with that of oil and petroleum that had slowly leaked out of the tanks of several of the more dilapated cars and forklifts that had since been parked in their respective garages. The sound distant sound of motors from the city was carried through the backstreets and alleyways, but the area was largely quiet. A helicopter broke the silence as it buzzed by overhead, it's searchlight briefly casting a white flash through the grimy windows of a dusty cannery.

An eerie, sudden quiet fell on the inhabitants of the brick building, wrapped in blankets, shawls and raincoats, as they edged away from the windows and doors, panic struck across their faces in the dim light. They waited several moments more until the fading sounds of the spinning rotors disappeared before letting out a collection of sighs of relief. The thirty-or-so people in the room were mostly Japanese, although around five or six of them; the rebels, were from other countries within the Republic. At least two thirds of the people were future refugees, fleeing the country for the west alongside the other third, comprised of their rebel relatives - mostly young men and women in their 20's and 30's who wanted to fight the system, overthrow the emperor and finally united the east with the west, and ending the various sick and twisted laws their Republic had inflicted upon them, namely the Education Reform Act. Husbands, wifes and siblings stood with the rebels, who were armed with holstered pistols and the odd bolt-action rifle, and here and there you could spot a child clasping on tightly to their mothers skirt. There was a lone elder, an old woman with a wrinkled face and grey hair, watching over the scene with cautious eyes.

"The convoy is late," she said with bated breath.

"Quiet mother," said Hajime Mimura with a stern ring to his voice, "You'll start a panic, and we're all rattled enough as it is."

The muscular man was silenced as a long-haired woman in sunglasses placed a hand on his shoulder, she nodded, and he nodded back in return, his earring catching a flicker of moonlight from through the windows. Young and muscular, he was one of the rebels, and although his general appearance indicated that he was a freedom fighter of the physical kind, his true talents layed in hacking and espionage, which appeared to be a family trait - as his own mother, the stern old lady with the grey hair, had been scrambling radio signals and sending secret messages back before the days the revolution had been supposedly crushed under the iron fist of the government. As he slouched back into the shadows, a silver pendant - some sort of bomb triggering mechanism - clinked metallically. He was perhaps the rebel there with the most family members accompanying him - his mother, his sister, her husband and her two sons, as well as a girlfriend none of them had ever been introduced to. Although he'd be relieved to get onto the trucks and be passed onto the boat, he wasn't looking forwards to the chit-chat between her and his female relatives once they started their long voyage across the pacific.

Not all of his family was there, because not all of them shared the same mindset as him. Whilst he was firmly opposed to the government and all of it's treacherous acts (much like his mother, who had done her fair share of fighting during her glory days, and as a result was a bitter and untrusting crone of a woman, yet a respected heroine all the same,) his sister wasn't overly concerned with 'sticking it to the man' as she so casually described it - she admitted to hating the things that were happening to the youth of the population, but she was scared of being crushed like a bug by government agents. After all, rebels were not treated kindly. So, Sakura Tsukamoto and her twin boys, Shinji and Takashi, had only earned their place on the cruise due to their husband and father, Kenta, who was a rebel, but not to the same dramatic extent as Hajime or Mayumi Mimura - he was 'small time' in comparison.

Sakura sat there quietly on a crate in a long raincoat, watching the scene unfold with tired, scared eyes - her identical twin boys curled up in her lap with their handsome faces and spiky brown hair. Both five, neither of the two truly understood what was actually happening, but were happy enough to be allowed up after bedtime for the first time in their lives. She had made strained conversation with another woman there, a pregnant young woman by the name of Yuka Akiyama, who along with her husband shared traditional, old-fashioned values, believing that they'd return to Japan once the problems had been solved, and once the nation had had been reformed to it's former, historic glory. The two them were accompanied by a quiet little girl called Miyuki, a year younger than her two boys, and the three of them had been rolling a shiny red ball back and fourth across the oily floor for the past twenty minutes - but were now tired.

"The convoy is here," said Kenta Tsukamoto, peering out the rusty garage doors. He began pulling at the heavy chains, causing the grill to rise upwards, letting the night air in. Truth be told he missed his own family, being forced to seperate himself from his parents and siblings as teen due to joining the rebellion, but he had gone incognito after three years of membership after witnessing a raid on one of the rebel strongholds he had been stationed at. Government men in black and body armour shooting rifles left and right, bullets piercing through men, women and children as they fell to the floor like bloody ragdolls in their dirty, ragged clothes and cloaks. After that he tried to go straight, adapting to the system, but he still kept the occasional contact with the other survivors, protecting himself with various codenames. Looking over at his wife on the crates with their two boys, he felt a warmth in his heart, they were the only family he truly needed - and by taking them to the west, he was protecting them - taking them away from all _this. _With a rusty crash, the garage door was fully opened, and a truck began reversing into the building before coming to a halt.

The doors of the truck opened, revealling a metallic interior with wooden benches lining the sides. It was a barren interior, but they'd only be in there for ten minutes at the most as they were transported to a cargo ship on the other side of the harbour. They couldn't risk going on foot in case they got seperated, and they couldn't risk going in individual transport because they'd draw attention. Kenta motioned with his hands for some of the refugees and rebels to get in to the truck, it could carry about fifteen or sixteen people if nobody was to stand. He watched them all getting on, imprinting the faces to his memory just in case something actually happened and he had to go out looking for those had been seperated from the convoy. He tried to keep his spirits up though. A punky inner-city guy with a rifle, a long haired woman in a red coat, a burly looking man with a bald spot, a young boy - twelve or so, with glasses, a plump housewife wrapped in a woolen blanket...Soon enough it was practically full, but looking down at the remaining people he saw four families left, each of them bickering with the others as to why they shouldn't be seperated from one of their relatives because there was one seat left over.

Tired with the brief spat was Mayumi Mimura, with her steel grey hair, wrinkled face and dark raincoat, throwing her old withered hands up as she cried out; "Christ already, I'll do it!" She was a tough old bird, and like that, Kenta helped her into the back of the truck where she took a seat next to a young couple, rolling her eyes and tutting. One of the rebels inside the truck pulled the doors closed with a heavy clang, before Kenta hopped down and slapped the side of the van.

"Off you go!" He cried, signalling for the vehicle to depart so the other could park.

Sakura Tsukamoto watched her husband with a smile - he had only revealled that he had rebel contants five years into their marraige, and right there and then she was so fearful for her life that she nearly took her toddler boy and fled the house, but nowadays she thought it gave him extra presence and power, it was attractive to see a man with so much honest strength, kind of like her own brother, Hajime, only less cocky and secretive. Her other brother, Toshio, was not the same as the rest of the family - he was conservative, tight-lipped and obeyed the government to such an extent that it was almost like he had been brainwashed by them. She didn't blame him too much, their father had been killed when they were young, and they had been seperated so many times from their mother that she had lost count - if it wasn't for the fact that she was disgusted by the idea of children killing other children for survival, then she'd probably be just like him - afraid and submissive under the mans thumb like an insect. It was a shame, his wife was nice enough, as his was their sweet little daughter, Ikumi, who hadn't long ago grown out of her baby clothes.

They deserved the chance to flee too, but it was agreed that they couldn't trust Toshio with this information - he was too much of a wild card, and would probably panic and leak the details to an official just to save his own hide. So - he knew nothing, as far as he was aware, all of the other Mimura's and Tsukamoto's were asleep in their homes, as opposed to three towns over hopping on a inter-continental cargo boat as illegal refugees and traitors to the Republic. She watched as the Akiyama family climbed in to the second truck, and remembered that the wife had said her biggest regret about leaving the country was that she wouldn't be able to raise her children as true Japanese. In a way, Sakura felt the same way about her boys, but then again - was it really worth it to have them possibly being drawn into a game of death upon their acceptance to middle school? Perhaps there was more in common between Yuka Akiyama and herself than she had originally thought, and then she came to the sudden realization that she'd be spending over a month with the family on that boat. They'd probably become friends, or something along those lines - heck, they might even become neighbours once they reach the United States...

"Sakura, come on," Hajime Mimura said, grabbing on to his sisters shoulder, "We're already late as it is."

"I'm just worried about our brother, Ikumi...The others." Sakura admitted, "I'm not comfortable leaving entire branches of our family tree behind whilst we flee with our tails between our legs."

"We'll just have to accept it," Hajime said, "They brought it on themselves by not resisting authority, and besides, we're perhaps the largest family on the boat - you should - we should all consider ourselves lucky."

Sakura nodded, climbing on to the back of the truck where she took a seat opposite the Akiyama's and their lively daughter, Miyuki. With a son on either side, and tucked tightly in her arms, Sakura finally breathed a sigh of relief, before turning her head, watching the last few refugees climb aboard, among them Hajime's girlfriend, whose name was still unknown at this point. _She doesn't look like a spy. _Sakura thought, _She looks like a model - just Hajime's type. _There was a loud bang as both Hajime and her own husband, Kenta, pulled the truck door down. The motor sprang to life and the entire room seemed to rumble as the truck began turning, before driving down the damp, rain-slicked street. Turning her head towards the front, Sakura could just about see the street ahead, as the back compartment of the truck was seperated from the drivers area by only a thin wall of criss-crossing metal rods. The red lights on the back of the other truck, which carried their mother and the remaining rebels, could be seen not too far ahead. _We're finally in the clear..._

There was a deafening boom and everybody seemed to scream and scramble about, she saw the flailing body of one of the other refugees hitting the floor and sliding towards the back of the truck, whilst the Akiyama's daughter fell to her knees and covered her ears. There was cursing come from the drivers area, and both Hajime and Kenta sprung to their feet. Peering through the front window, Sakura saw the fiery wreckage of the other truck somersaulting across the street before landing upside down and sending up sparks as it skidded into a building, before being flipped onto its side by another smaller explosion. The truck she was on swerved, throwing her off her balance allowing her to miss the smaller fireballs that climbed out of the twisted metal trap and ran about, throwing themselves into oily puddles, trying to douse the flames that ravaged their bodies. She could hear one of her sons, she couldn't tell which, screaming out in horror, tears running down his face.

"SAKURA!" Kenta screamed, just as the truck collided with a wall.

The back doors flew open almost automatically with the impact, throwing three people onto the street, one of them Hajime, who cried out in pain as a bone in his wrist shattered upon impact with the concrete. The cold night air rushed in, along with the smell of smoke and burning flesh. A second chopper, or maybe it was the same one as before, rushed by overhead, nearly deafening everybody. Falling to the floor of the truck, Sakura pulled one of her sons close, pulling him tight into her own body as feet rushed over her, and by some miracle, trampling neither mother nor child. It was only until after the last of the cowards had fled the truck did she realize that her other son, Shinji, was nowhere to be seen.

"KENTA!" She screamed, "WHERE'S SHINJI!"

Gunfire erupted in the street as the rebels that had abandoned the crashed vehicle began a firefight with the government agents and police officers that emerged from the alleys, swarming the survivors like a pack of wild hornets. Then she saw him out in the road, slim body in the basketball pyjamas, spiky brown hair, crying and holding onto his blanket. Sakura reached out her own arm and screamed for her boy as the truck she was on began moving again, reversing into the street and turning.

"NO!" She howled, "NOT MY SON!"

She saw the red laser point of an agents rifle creep over Shinji Tsukamoto's face before a feminine form sprinted forwards and pulled him out of the way, the gunshot rang out, but neither boy nor woman had been hit. As the truck began hurtling along the road, further away from the cornered rebels, Sakura saw by the flash of a streetlight on the sunglasses of her sons saviour that it had been Hajime's girlfriend who had pulled him out of the line of fire. The lithe figure and the young boy darted into an alleyway, followed by a brawnier one, who kept turning backwards, clumsily firing his gun at the approaching officers. Her throat raw and her eyes burning, Sakura screamed with despair as she was seperate from one of her sons, knowing that she would never see him again. She was pulled away from the open doors by Kenta, who, using his feet, propelled the three of them closer to the front of the truck, holding both his wife and his remaining son tightly in his arms. Somewhere behind them, the Akiyama's made no attempt to coax their daughter out of her hysterics, merely sitting in a shell shocked silence. As they passed by the smouldering wreckage of the first truck, both Sakura and Kenta realized that not only had their been rebels, women and children aboard, but also Mayumi, the rebellious matriarch of the Mimura clan.

Being pulled further and further away from the chaos, Sakura saw a turret of fire rise up like a hydrant behind a building, and she knew then that somebody had foolishly shot through a propane tank. They didn't appear to be being followed, but it didn't do anything to calm the fear, frustration and agony of those few survivors on board as they drew closer and closer to the cargo ship, trying to fathom what bloody losses their supposed 'freedom' and 'escape' had cost them in the end. And whilst Takashi, Kenta, Miyuki and the Akiyama's were very much alive (yet shaken) it was here and now that Sakura, whilst living, had died - and would spend the rest of her life in this state. As the sound of fireengine sirens drew closer and closer, texts and messages were already being sent to the press and media to cover up the failed interception as a an explosion resulting from faulty machinery being left in the same vicinity as several drums of petroleum. For those six survivors and their driver, this blistering inferno was the horrific start to their American dream...

* * *

_Later on this Present Day..._

Dim light poured through the boarded up windows of the dark classroom, the waxed floor wasn't reflecting the moonlight, but instead the translucent plastic sheet spread over it that would soon stop unlawfully spilled blood from staining the floorboards. Sprawled around the room were 42 high school seniors, some unconscious in a forced sleep from the harmful gasses pumped into their bus hours before, whilst a small number were dumped on the floor with bloodied and bruised foreheads - having been knocked out by more forceful and blunt-edged means. A dozen or so chairs were positioned around the dilapated classroom, some near desks and tables, whilst others seemed randomly placed in the center of the room, most of them had the future BR victims slumped in or over them, their heads lolling and their hands dangling milimetres from the floor. An even smaller number were laid over the desks themselves, like corpses at a motruary. Everybody else had been dumped on the floor, piled over their peers, propped against walls and shoved under desks like loose baggage. Japanese men in olive military grab waded through the bodies, attaching metal collars to the necks of the sleeping teens.

"Hm..." One of the soldiers murmured, motioning over to his comrade, "This one looks familiar..."

He was pointing down to an eighteen-year-old, the orange-ish complexion of his skin standing out from his black, white and hispanic peers. There were other tell-tale signs, the slight slant of the eyes for instance, and the spiky brown hair with the dark black roots.

"Republic of Greater East Asia?"

"I can't tell, but he certainly looks like it."

"Check the roster."

"Oh yeah, this name...I don't recognize it personally, but it's Tsukmoto, if that isn't Japanese, then I don't what isn't."

"What's he doing over here?"

"Don't know, the originals traitors died out. The east asian population in this country is less than 0.4 percent."

"An abandoner?"

"Probably, semi-recent. Possible the kid of someone who stowed away within the last 20 years."

"Should we do something?"

"No."

"It doesn't feel right, this game is for the yanks."

"His family made their decision, he's as much a yank now as the others in here, I guess when they skipped the Republic - propably to avoid getting this little brat in the program, they didn't realize he'd end up in this one."

"True."

"There's another one, a girl."

"Surname?"

"Akiyama."

"Collar them both."

"Wait, this isn't her?"

"Well they were just piled in her randomly, what are the odds that the two Japanese students would actually be next to each other?"

"I just thought...Nevermind, they seemed to look familiar with each other."

"Well, whoever this girl is, she's into little Tsukamoto here."

"Or they just got put here randomly, like everybody else."

"No, none of the other competitors are holding hands."

"Seems like a weird joke."

"Surname?"

"Leach."

"Oh well, collar her."

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_WHAT DID YOU GUYS THINK! Desu. DID YOU LIKE MY STORY! Desu. READ AND REVIEW! KYAAAAAAAAAAA! あなたが読んで、確認されない場合は私があなたに呪いをかけます。_


	2. Graduation

_Did you like the last chapter! Desu. Hope you like this one too! Nyaaaaaa! R&R o.O_

* * *

The weather was overcast, the clouds hanging low in the sky - as if threatening to dip even closer to the earth and create a shroud of mist. Only the most determined rays of sunlight was able to pierce the chilly atmosphere, and as a result the day was dim and grey. The miserable weather was uncommon but not unheard of considering it was still only the earliest days of summer. Cars rumbled by in the streets surrounding Mockingbird High as workers hurried back to the office following their lunch breaks, however there was a steady trickle of cars coming through the curving lane leading up to the gates of the school. A green and white banner hung down over the entrance plaza of the campus, strung up by two old fashioned lamposts - the bold print reading "Congratulations, 2012 Seniors!" Here and there plastered and taped to the brick and glass walls of the buildings were posters in matching colors and text, mentioning words like 'Graduation' and 'Farewell' with a train of exclamation marks.

Footsteps echoed loudly down the halls and through the courtyards, the loud cheers and murmurings of friends and families as they milled about chatting, making their way to the near infinite rows of folding chairs set up in front of a large podium on the long patio that ran alongside the glassy front of the cafeteria building. The principal stood on the center of the stage, whispering to a colleague as he toyed with the microphone. A crowd of around three hundred teenagers in green caps and gowns stood concealed behind the stage, buzzing with excitement as they waited for the ceremonies to begin - but nearly a third of them had abandoned post to meet up with their families up front. Hundred of pictures, digital and polaroid, were being snapped simutaneously as the friends posed in small groups and signed each others yearbooks, laughing at their own jokes.

For 326 of these students, these would be the last days they saw the teachers, and as the days of the summer vacation ticked away, the last time they'd see their classmates too - save for random future encounters. But for an unassuming 50, this would be the last time that they saw anyone other than those unknown dozens that had been selected alongside themselves for the involuntary participation of a dangerous, bloody game. The principal tapped the microphone and beckoned for the crowds of relatives to find their seats as prerecorded fanfare blared out over the intercom speakers. Teenagers nervously checked their caps were aligned and that there hair was neat, before quickly giving words of reassurance to their more timid counterparts. Towards the front of the school, long buses began pulling up to the faculty parking lot, banners and signs hanging from the outside, whilst the inside had green streamers hanging from overhead compartments. The drivers congregated around the near-empty bike rack, sharing cigarettes as they waited for their job to begin.

"And best of luck to the graduating seniors! We at Mockingbird High will always have you in our hearts!"

* * *

**BUS #03 PASSENGER LIST (TOLEDO, OHIO)**

**Boy #1 Greg Acqarone**

**Girl #1 Elisha Presley**

**Boy #2 Austin Wilson**

**Girl #2 Shanice Hancock**

**Boy #3 Todd Denton**

**Girl #3 Connie Ricchetti**

**Boy #4 Turner Green**

**Girl #4 Mindy Drew**

**Boy #5 Ross Simmons**

**Girl #5 Selene Nesbitt**

**Boy #6 Takashi Tsukamoto**

**Girl #6 Luisa Sanchez**

**Boy #7 Rico Rodriquez**

**Girl #7 Carol Leach**

**Boy #8 Tariq Malik**

**Girl #8 Mari Makaiau**

**Boy #9 Axel Presley**

**Girl #9 Dakota Kiowa**

**Boy #10 Blaine Lagorio**

**Girl #10 Stevie Vincent**

**Boy #11 Harvey Redford**

**Girl #11 Tess Williams**

**Boy #12 Toby Bryant**

**Girl #12 Karly Ryan**

**Boy #13 Dean Jordan**

**Girl #13 Iliana Pellegrino**

**Boy #14 Kent Tyson**

**Girl #14 Miyuki Akiyama**

**Boy #15 Nick Parker**

**Girl #15 Janette Burton**

**Boy #16 Ryder Edwards**

**Girl #16 Natalia Belinski**

**Boy #17 Jamal Mason**

**Girl #17 Jenny Hutcherson**

**Boy #18 Ted Faraday**

**Girl #18 Daphne French**

**Boy #19 Francis Grant**

**Girl #19 Fiona Keaton**

**Boy #20 Frankie Favero**

**Girl #20 Kirsten Starsky**

**Boy #21 Jess De Luca**

**Girl #21 Hayley Lee**

**Boy #22 Shay Johnson**

**Girl #22 Rhiannon Jones**

**Boy #23 Lyle Fuller**

**Girl #23 Madison Smith**

**Boy #24 DeShaun Nelson**

**Girl #24 Annabel Lewis**

**Boy #25 Emerson Scott**

**Girl #25 Tamara Robinson**

**50 Contestants Remaining...**

* * *

"I can't believe we all graduated!" Carol Leach cried, clasping on tightly to her green graduation cap.

"You're so easily impressed," Takashi Tsukamoto replied, "I'm more astounded at how people like the Presley twins or Jamal's gang could get handed a diploma without the principal cracking up."

"It's only fair that they finally got through anyway," Miyuki Akiyama chimed, "Those dolts have been repeating senior year forever now."

"I was so, so, so nervous!" Annabel Lewis piped up, "For a second when he was shaking my hand I thought that he'd realize it was a mistake and he'd tell me I couldn't graduate or something!"

"Why'd you even think that?" Jess De Luca added, "If they were going to hold you back another year they wouldn't have given you one of these ugly green gowns."

The five friends strode along the grassy knoll, drawing closer and closer toward the buses. Several teachers with clipboards were waving around, trying to get the right graduates on the right bus. At the front of the group was Jess and Takashi, the two of them had been friends since they were kids - originally their friendship had been a mutually beneficial deal; Jess would protect Takashi from the kids who gave him stick about being Japanese, and in return Takashi would use his unconventional hacking skills to take the parental block off of Jess's TV so he could watch all of those horror movies that he loved so much. Eventually, over the years they became true friends, starting a 'bromance' as Miyuki candidly dubbed it. She was walking at a slower pace to the two boys, in the same place as Carol, her own best friend. Annabel followed up the rear, her petite frame nearly tripping up over the hem of her graduation gown. The five of them were herded into the third bus, streamers and pompoms in the school colors hanging from the ceiling and wrapped around the chairs. They were amongst the first few to board.

Sitting very close to the front, near to where the teachers would be sitting was Tariq Malik, a slim and tall boy with a hooked nose and heavy eyebrows, who often looked as if he was scowling. His family was Muslim, and several generations ago they had been immigrants from some country in the Middle East which nobody in school had been particularly bothered enough to ask Tariq about. Truth be told he was something of a loner, ever since the September 11th bombings in New York, some of the more unruly and crude classmates had been accusing Tariq and his families of being Islam terrorists - and once, fairly recently, somebody had vandalised his locker with a poster of Osama Bin Laden's dead body, with the text, "SORRY TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR UNCLE." Tariq ignored the newcomers and stared off through the window, back up to the school - probably relieved that he would never have to go back again.

Also on the bus, a few rows down from Tariq was the duo of Hayley Lee and Blaine Lagorio, both sitting down in their dark clothes and whispering back and forth in sardonic tones. They were the resident emos, complete with pale skin, angular haircuts and spiked belts paired with bandshirts. They weren't particularly active in the social structure of the school, and the pair often sat back and relaxed, giving their own morbid and sarcastic commentary on the events that unfolded around them. There was a rumour that the pair of them had a friends with benefits arrangement, that always seemed to have some actual basis due to the fact that the two could often be found sitting with their pinkie fingers linked. Blaine, with the dark bags under his eyes and his narrow features sat hunched by the window, the screen of his iPod casting a blue glow on his face as he went through his library, he only looked up at the newcomers and nodded to acknowledge their existence.

"Congratulations," Hayley said in a morose tone, "For surviving Mockingbird High."

She waved with her free hand at them, the harsh glare of the flueroscent lights bouncing off of her black fingernails. Her heavily made-up eyes rolled sarcastically before she turned away to whisper something to her partner in crime. Sometimes Annabel, the runt of the small group, would hang around with Hayley and Blaine, mainly due to the fact that she was a goth, but they never had much to talk about. Hayley and Blaine were more interested in experimental art, horror movies and My Chemical Romance music, as opposed to Annabel, whose own interests laid in vampires and witchcraft. But eitherway, they were a nice change of scenery from Jess, Takashi and Miyuki whenever they seemed to get tired of her tagging along to Carol. Jess cracked a joke about the duo not getting enough sunlight to Miyuki, who didn't laugh and instead gave out a bated sigh.

The only other person on the bus, other than the driver, was Tamara Robinson, who had used her purse, jacket and graduation gown to mark a row of seats as reserved - obviously for the rest of her 'high society' clique. Tamara was an average height girl, but she always seemed short and gawky in comparison to the more model-like builds of Madison, Jenny and Selene. She was a redhead, and had a round face with heart-shaped lips and a button nose, as well as a light splash of freckles. She was cute, almost doll-like, but her personality was too task-orientated and severe. Formerly a member of the school newspaper, Tamara had and still has to this day fine administrative and organizational skills that could perhaps one day suit her well as a personal assistant to a VIP, but she acted this way now to the Mockingbird High it-girl Madison Smith and her cronies. The trio had probably made the poor girls reserve their seats for them whilst they talked behind her back and got some soda.

Calling dibs on a row of seats in the exact middle between Tamara and the emos, Jess swung his luggage into the overhead compartment, clumsily causing some streamers to tear along the middle and to fall limply to either side like long spaghetti strands. Jess came from a 'traditonal' Italian-American family, who believed in a strong work ethic and family values, and as a result he was often forced to look after his younger siblings and to drive them to their baseball practice or dance recitals. He was a good enough guy, but he had that annoying trait of constantly cracking jokes and giving people nicknames when they didn't want them - he didn't have a bad bone in his body though, he was just one of those awkward comedic types, which made him seem so strange as the best friend of Takashi Tsukamoto - who in comparison was smart, quiet, brooding and cool. Jess also had an obvious crush on Miyuki Akiyama, but then again, who wouldn't? But she seemed oblivious to his advances. Taking a seat, he cracked the window letting some cool air rush in and gasped with elation.

"Grad night! Yeah!" He cried.

Takashi carefully put his laptop carrier into the overhead compartment, but, deciding that he didn't like the idea of it sliding around in there, wrapped his arms tightly around it and took his seat. He was a handsome, semi-athletic guy (not to the same extent as Jess, who loved to play basketball) with a slim, slightly muscular frame. His face was handsome, with high-cheekbones, dark eyebrows and slanted, brown eyes. His brown hair was usually brushed back and sort of spiky, but usually it had a neat-casual look as opposed to Jess's mop of tangled black hair. Takashi wasn't a loner, but he was less socially open than the rest of the group, and could usually be found tapping away at his laptop and swindling the less known gambling websites out of small sums of money at a time as to not get caught. Even though by description he was something of a geek, he had that calm and collected swag in which he carried himself, constantly brooding and aloof. It was probably because he was only young when his family unlawfully migrated from Japan, and although he reassured his friends that he could remember next to nothing about it, it couldn't have been a pretty ordeal to go through.

The same memory loss applied to Miyuki, who was just shy of a year younger than Takashi when she and her family left the country too. Her only real memories were that she had to celebrate her birthday on a cargo boat as they passed the midway islands, and that she didn't even have a cake or a party, but she remembered everybody singing songs like a poorly assembled choir. Their parents never told them why they left Japan, other than that they were 'running into problems' with 'the government.' Miyuki was less like Takashi in a lot of respects, where he was quiet, she was bubbly, and where he was aloof, she loved to socialize. He prefered to surf the internet and crack programs, whilst she loved going out with friends and being invited to parties. She was truly the liveliest person of the five, and with her charming personality and pop star looks, it was a wonder why she wasn't the most popular girl in school. It probably had to do with the fact that she was Japanese, and for some reason a lot of Americans found the few Japanese citizens among them untrustworthy - mostly due to the fact that the nation and the republic it belonged to were so shrouded in mystery, that no westerners could truly divulge what was going on there.

Taking a seat next to Miyuki was Carol, a bubbly and perky girl with a fondness for all things Asian. Truth be told, whilst not a lot from the Republic got into the states, it was only what the Republic chose to let slip and broadcast, and they often painted Japan as some sort of bright and colourful hub of pop music, fashion and trendsetting, where all the signs were neon and every product had a cartoon mascot. Carol guessed that she thought it was silly to eat such things up, but she couldn't help herself, there was just something about the lively beat of J-Pop and J-Rock music that captured her, and so many exotic and extravagant things about the culture that fascinated her. It was for that reason that she was so drawn to Miyuki and Takashi in the first place, and one of the main reasons why she had been trying to learn the Japanese language ever since. It was perhaps her fondness and interests that were also her downfall, as they only served to isolate her from her parents, and gain her ridicule from her peers as an 'American in Denial.' She didn't let it bother her though, it was her dream to apply for the Eastern/Western Youth Ambassadorship Program (EWYAP for short) and to be stationed in Japan - although given her luck, she'd probably wind up being stationed in Cambodia instead.

The last of the group was Annabel, a petite girl in a dark dress who grew up in a wiccan family (although her mother was the actual wiccan, her father was just a hippie who converted so he could marry who he described as 'the foxiest gal this side of Chicago') and as a result grew up isolated by her peers due to her interest in charms, spirits and other supernatural topics. Annabel got on with everybody else in the group to an extent, but she always thought that they didn't like her that much, she was too much of a shy wallflower in comparison to Miyuki, who was both pretty and chatty, and she was too much of a dork in comparison to Takashi, who was always cool and collected, and she was too meek and reserved for Jess, who was always bold and comedic. Her only true connection to the small clique was her friendship to Carol, whom she often taught simple spells and charms to, and with whom she shared a fondness for vampire literature, like Dracula, Anne Rice or Twilight - but this was only in those rare moments when Carol wasn't practising her Japanese or snapping pictures with that polaroid camera of hers. She was thankful for her place in the group though, because she believed that without them, she'd be friendless.

On to the bus came the curvy redhead, Rhiannon Jones, wearing a tight sweater, she beckoned for her friends to board too, a smile on her face. She was followed by the rest of the unofficial events committee, six or so well-to-do and relatively popular girls who always managed to find a place working on every dance, gala and festival that the school had ever hosted, most recently, the senior prom and grad night. Following the ringleader was the bleach-blonde and rake-thin Karly Ryan, the plump and prissy Daphne French, ponytailed tomboy Mindy Drew, bespectacled goofball Luisa Sanchez and the tight-lipped perfectionist Natalia Belinski, who made their way down the long aisle with a chorus of laughs, giggles and eager chit-chat. Luisa and Rhiannon waved to Carol, Miyuki, Takashi and the others as they passed, whilst Karly was more concentrated on texting and walking at the same time. Mindy nodded in Miyuki's direction whilst Daphne tried to avoid touching the arm-rests as to avoid getting germs on her fingers, followed by Natalia who was hissing at her to move faster.

The group of girls were followed by the unruly and loudmouthed Presley twins, Axel and Elisha, who had a schoolwide reputation as rednecks and troublemakers. It wasn't uncommon to see Axel getting into a fistfight with a random jock or thug, or out smoking pot in the field when he should be on class, and you didn't have to wander too far before hearing a rumour that Elisha was pregnant again. As Jess subtly put it, the twins were destined for guest-spots on Maury. Elisha was probably the smarter of the two, and it was her motivation that got Axel to scrape by this year and graduate, as the two had repeated senior year twice already before. They took a seat next to each other across the aisle from the emos, whom Axel was quick to begin heckling. Tariq and Tamara looked over at the twins and wrinkled their noses with disgust from the back and front respectively.

Next on were the noisy but harmless skater crowd, in their wrinkled teeshirts and old sneakers, clutching on to their boards as they surfed down to the halfway point, a row or too behind Jess, Annabel and the others. The ringleader was the handsome yet greasy haired Ryder Edwards, who had set many a freshman hearts a flutter by doing ollies and kickflips behind the gymnasium during lunch hour, and on his arm was Kirsten Starsky, a lithe and plain brunette who made up for her lack of good looks with her good sense of humor, the duo had an on and off relationship that had been going on since sophomore year, mainly due to the fact that Ryder couldn't commit to her, but she always took him back for some reason. They were followed by the curly-haired and freckled Todd Denton, whose arm was still in a sling from his failed attempt at grinding down the banister in the front plaza, and the resident stoner, Lyle, who kept his messy, sandy-blonde hair under a beanie hat, which was supposedly where he kept a small bag of weed when he was on the go - his eyes were bloodshot as usual. Following the boys was the good-spirited and rebellious Mari Makaiau, who often attracted attention with her purple dip-dyed hair and the revealling hotpants she always wore - she wasn't as much a skater as the others, but was an amateur surfer back in Hawaii before she moved over.

Scrambling onto the bus next were the geeks, the unofficial leader was Ted Faraday, who was so smart that he was graduating a year early. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and gave a goofy grin before taking a seat a row or two behind Tariq. It wasn't a well kept secret that the duo had a rivalry of sorts, as Ted always beat Tariq in the annual science fair. Next to Ted was the dark-skinned Dean Jordan, who was a huge fan of Star Wars. Unlike Ted, who focused on academics, Dean put all of his attention towards first person shooters and multiplayer videogames. They were followed by the fat and curlyhaired Francis Grant, probably the most bullied in the group, who supposedly went LARPing if the rumours were true. The group was rounded off by the runt and only female member, Janette Burton, who was teased by her geeky peers for being a fan of Harry Potter, due to it being too 'mainstream.' She seemed rather nervous as she took her seat, her eyes wide and anxious through her horn-rimmed spectacles. Axel Presley turned his attention away from Blaine and Hayley, and loudly blurted out - "KEEP LOOKING AT THOSE ELF PRINCESSES BECAUSE YOU GUYS ARE NEVER GETTING LAID!"

The bus exceeded it's 50% capacity with the addition of the pale and anemic-looking Turner Green, who looked around with tired eyes before quickly taking a seat at the front, close to the nerds. Turner was perhaps the most picked on kid in the grade, if not the school, and not just due to the fact that everybody saw him as a pale, scrawny, weakling, or a social awkward dweeb - but also due to the fact that his deceased mother used to be a well known pornographic actress during the 90's. Truth be told at least 90% of the school left Turner alone, looking down on him with a mixture of guilty and pity, whilst it was the other 10% who did all the bullying. There was the famous instance where somebody had hacked the scoreboard in the basketball court to read out the marquee 'TURNER GREENS MOM SUCKS DICKS IN HELL.' And whilst he hadn't even been attending the game, it wasn't long before he recieved his impact after nearly the entire student body began texting and tweeting about the shocking events. Nobody was too sure how he could take all of this abuse and not transfer to a different school, and everybody was waiting for that day when he'd either kill or himself or go on a rampage like those kids in the news did.

The school basketcase was followed by the starcrossed lovers, Emerson Scott and Connie Ricchetti, a football player and a cheerleader respectively. Both were from old fashioned, well-to-do and traditional families and were both raised in a proper and dignified fashion - Emerson the all-american southern gentleman, and Connie the Italian-American catholic schoolgirl. Both were relatively goodlooking, and unlike their fellow friends in the popular crowd, were pleasant and courteous, never mean or disrespectful to those few that their peers decided were beneath them. It was a wonder why the two of them hadn't been voted prom king and prom queen, but instead prince and princess. They took a seat near the back, sashaying past an irate Tamara who was wondering where her friends were. The classy duo were followed by a crude one, the pairing of best friends and amateur bandmates Nick Parker and Austin Wilson, who were equally scruffy and equally thrill-seeking, hoping one day for their garage band to land a record deal and make it big in the music world.

The newest passengers to board the bus were Iliana Pellegrino, Stevie Vincent and their openly gay friend (or mascot) Harvey Redford. The three of them often walked around with an air of dignity and superiority as if they were better than everyone else. According to Harvey, his great grandparents had been first class passengers on the Titanic, although his family were only semi-wealthy now (although you'd be a fool to tell him that.) Stevie Vincent was just as bad, believing herself to be something of a socialite, like Paris Hilton, only more proper and ladylike, if you asked any of her peers, they'd say that she was so uptight it was like she was walking with a stick up her butt. The last of the three was Iliana Pellegrino, whose father (as rumour had it) had mob connections, Iliana was all designer labels and Tiffany Jewellery, but no actual class or affluence as her too peers - she was probably the wild child of the trio. Harvey led the others, his nose stuck up in the air, followed by Stevie who was waddling along in what she must have thought was a graceful stride, and Iliana, who wore a smug expression and some designer sunglasses, despite it being a cloudy day.

The self-proclaimed 'uppercrust' trio were followed by the true bottom of the class barrel, Jamal Mason and his gang, the mere sight of the thugs causing everybody else in the bus to tense up and avert their gaze. Jamal Mason, dark-skinned, muscular and stern looking led the rest of his mob down towards the very back row, lifting an eyebrow as the likes of Tamara Robinson, Daphne French and the 'high class' trio hid their belongings under their seats. Jamal, was the leader of these five deviants and his girlfriend, Shanice Hancock, within the walls of the school - but outside, he was just a high ranking member of the local streetgang - a lieutenant of sorts to the head. Everyone believes that he was destined for jail, or at least death in a driveby shooting. Following him was Shanice, a nice-enough girl who was just going through a bad-boy phase, and everybody was hoping that she'd snap out of it soon and get herself out of that dangerous situation. She seemed rather clueless as to why everybody else had suddenly gone quiet. The pair were followed by the dumb muscle of the group, Rico 'The Torpedo' Rodriquez, who had been Jamal's best friend and bodyguard since practically forever.

Rounding out the rest of the group were Greg 'Snowboy' Acquarone, DeShaun 'Young Blood' Nelson, Dakota Kiowa and Toby Bryant. Greg was an athletic Italian-American, not as muscular as Rico, but with enough protein and weight lifting, he'd get there eventually. He always had a shabby look about him, probably due to him being the drug dealer of the group, which was a shame due to him actually being rather goodlooking. He was followed by his best friend DeShaun, the most recent addition to the gang, a dark-skinned joker who described himself as a pyromaniac. Dakota was the nymphomaniac of the group, a curvy and exotic girl of Native-American blood, whose parents were involved with the trade and sell of hard drugs. She was always inviting the rest of the gang to wild parties on the reservation, and had a reputation as being the school whore. The last member of the group was Toby Bryant, an irritating and clueless rich kid who stuck out like a poor-thumb, the ferret-faced blonde probably thought that his money meant he had a firm control over Jamal and the others, and didn't seem to realize they tolerated him following them around so they could milk him of all his cash.

There was one final member, Shay 'Jitters' Johnson, but he wasn't present. Rumour had it that the gang nearly got busted by the police a week or two ago, and nobody had seen him since. Theories stated that Shay either ratted the group out, or split from them when the going got rough, so it was only natural that he'd run away now - nobody, NOBODY wanted to get on the bad side of Jamal Mason and the others, or worse, the Glass City Cutters. Following the thugs was the queen bee herself, Madison Smith, decked from head to toe in designer clothing, she made her way towards the end, followed by the rest of her posse, and her manicured hand clinging on to the jacket of football player Kent Tyson, leading him along like a dog on a leash. The pair of them were as bad as each other, always starting rumours, getting into trouble and rough housing people - mainly the nerds. Madison dismissed Tamara like a servant, and along with her boyfriend, took the seats which her lackey had secured for her.

The rest of the elite clique quickly followed, dark beauty Selene Nesbitt graced the masses with the presence of an ice queen, somehow managing to score the coveted crown at senior prom (which infuriated Madison to no end.) Selene walked in a sultry fashion, flicking her black hair over her shoulder as she took a seat across the aisle from Madison and Kent, joined quickly by her football player boyfriend, Ross Simmons. Ross was a nice enough guy, a close friend to Emerson Scott, so it seemed all the more strange that he was dating a ball buster like Selene. In fact, most of the football players had high maintenance girlfriends, Ross and Selene, Kent and Madison, Frankie and Tess...They were probably masochistic or something. The two couples were followed by the single Jenny Hutcherson, the brainless beauty of the it-crowd, who took a seat next to an unimpressed and sour-looking Tamara, who had probably been hoping that she'd get to sit next to the queen bee herself - Jenny didn't seem very phased though, she had that same clueless look of glee on her face as she swished her red hair back over her shoulder.

The last people to board the bus, other than the teachers, were the remaining members of the cheer squad, who were often at war with Madison's clique for control and supremacy of the schools social pyramid. Tess Williams, the sassy and determined captain of the squad led her boyfriend, Frankie Faverro, the captain of the football team. Unlike her boyfriend and captain counterpart, Tess firmly held the reigns of the clique, and was very clearly the leader, as well as a force to be reckoned with. Frankie may have called the shots out in the game, but in the halls of the school it was Kent Tyson who acted like he owned the place. Tess was always nagging her boyfriend to exert more authority and control, but he was only really focused on improving his skills - mainly because he had big shoes to fill, his own father being one of Mockingbird High's former football stars. The pair were followed by Fiona Keaton, the more immature and mischeivous cheerleader, who was probably the groups counterpart to Jenny in the it-clique, made even more strange due to the fact that they used to be friends until Jenny didn't get onto the varsity squad. Other than Connie, the cheerleaders were still in their uniforms, probably just to wear them one last time out of fondness for the memories they had wearing them.

"Okay everyone, strap yourselves in!" Cried a teacher from the front, "And get ready for grad night and the rest of your lives!"


End file.
